Alter Ego
by j3nnee
Summary: Someone kidnaps Neal while he waits in the car for Peter who's getting coffee. Spoilers for first season including the Finale.
1. Chapter 1

**Alter Ego**

**Spoilers from the season and finale.  
Whumpage etc etc****  
=========================**

Neal leaned against the passenger side door, hat pushed over his face as he sat there in a half slump. He woke up as the movement of the vehicle stopped and peered up under the rim of his fedora at the driver after looking out the window.

"Where are we? This isn't June's." His voice was sleepy and almost petulant. He stretched slightly continuing to peer at his friend. Peter did a little stretch of his own and opened the door.

"Sorry, getting some coffee at the corner store. Want anything?" Neal blinked then shook his head, pushing the Fedora back over his face and curling up against the door again. He heard the driver's side door close and a _click_ of the lock as he fell back into a light sleep.

For the past three days, Peter and Neal had been on a stakeout for a recent case involving a cat burglar. They had finally gotten a break for the evening but Peter had to have his coffee so here they were. Neal snored softly until a loud _rapping_ from the driver's side woke him up. He tried to ignore it but the rapping continued till he sat up slightly, hitting the unlock switch and turned with a slightly irritated voice.

"Peter, you have a key. Why don't you... use it." He turned to see that the driver's side door had opened and someone other than Peter stood there, a small automatic in their hand. Neal gulped slightly, staring at the person and trying to figure out if he was dreaming or this was for real. The man had dirty blond hair and was dressed in a black denim jacket over a dark blue polo looking shirt and jeans. His brown eyes glared at the young man with a burning intensity.

"Please exit the vehicle, Mr. Caffrey." Neal heard the doors lock as he nodded woodenly, sliding across the front seat towards the man and exiting on the driver's side. The man kept the gun on him, as he closed the door and motioned for Neal to walk away from the car. The man nudged the gun against the con's back and whispered:

"_Don't do anything rash_." Neal nodded unsure of what was going on. He turned briefly to see Peter heading back to the vehicle. He wanted to shout out to his friend but felt the gun stuck further into his ribs as they turned the building and they walked into a nearby alleyway. A black sedan sat there, lights coming on as they approached. Neal blinked at the bright lights and put a hand to his eyes.

"Can you tell me what this is all about? If it's my wallet you want, here..." Neal started to reach slowly down towards his pocket when something cuffed him on the back of the skull with a loud thud and he collapsed to the ground the wallet spilling aside and bouncing under a nearby dumpster. He felt his arms pulled behind him and tied securely as a rag was pushed in his mouth and tape pulled over his lips. Someone spoke as if from far away, vision tunneling to black.

"Criminals like you should be locked away forever! You waltz around as if the world owes you something, getting something for nothing!" Neal shook his head in an effort to stay awake despite the pain. His efforts were in vain as he felt the man kick him in the side as he continued to rant at him. Everything went black, the man's voice fading to a mere jumble of incoherent sounds.

**(Dammit!)**

Peter had to wait behind a man who argued with the clerk about paying with a bag of change. After what seemed the longest wait, he had paid for his coffee and a bottled water for Neal and started out of the convenience store. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys and walked back to the Taurus. He opened up the car, slipped inside and started to talk.

"Sorry I took so long. You wouldn't believe what just.. happened." Peter's voice trailed off as he turned for the first time, noticing the empty front seat and looked around in the backseat his expression quizzical.

"Neal?" Peter opened the door and stepped out of the car looking around the street. People were all around but none of them were his charge and partner. He was about to close up the car and start looking for the young man when he felt a buzz in his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell.

"Burke. What?! Where was his last location? Thanks." Peter locked up the vehicle and took a quick sprint around the block the same way Neal had been taken by the gun man. He saw the alleyway and peered inside. Something sat in the middle of the ground as the agent approached a nearby dumpster. He crouched down and stared at the object and cursed. It was Neal's fedora. Peter picked it up for evidence when he saw something roll out from underneath. It was the gps anklet.

"Neal... what have you done?" Peter muttered as he took out his cell and started to walk back towards his car, phone pushed to his ear. The number he dialed rang and rang till he heard a voice say:

"_Just leave a message._" It was Neal's voice sounding quite coy and condescending. Peter waited for the _beep_ and spoke quickly.

"Neal? Neal... pick up. Where are you? This is Peter. Call me back." He hung up and dialed another number, his face flushed with annoyance at the situation.

"Jones? Hey, yeah I know it's late. I'm going to need some help getting some surveillance film. Neal's disappeared. Thanks." He gave Jones the details, hung up the cell and pushed it back into his pocket. He was still technically on the stakeout but on break. He didn't know how he was supposed to explain what happened with Caffrey to Hughes tomorrow. He sighed and slipped back into the Taurus.

Peter sat there a moment trying to figure out what could have happened. He knew Neal hated stakeouts but he hadn't been any more unhappy about the assignment than usual. Wasn't worth cutting his tether just to do something like go home and sleep but Neal had done sillier things. Something stunk here and Peter just couldn't put his finger on it. He finally started up the car and took off back to the stakeout, something telling him he needed to put a little more effort into this search for Neal.

**(Vigilante)**

His head ached and a throbbing rhythm pounded in his ears and temples till he thought he was going to be sick. What had happened. Where? He could hear voices in the distance.

"He's a criminal! Don't argue with me! This is the right thing to do! They think they can get away with something and just waltz around with the FBI all _buddy buddy_. I don't think so! He's going to disappear and they can think he ran. Plain and simple." The voice held venom and anger but towards who...

"He's waking up! What do we do?" This voice sounded a little less certain than the first one, a hint of reason in their tone.

"Give me the gun." He heard the cocking of a pistol, his eyes opening to mere slits. There was little light and the figures were murky at best. He could just make out movement and one of the shadows held something that glinted metallic in the dim light.

"I'll end it quickly." He saw the metal object pointed at him, a flash of light and tried to move but something hit the side of his head. More pain and burning and then nothingness.

**(A walk in the park)**

Days went by maybe; He wasn't sure what time had passed but he woke up to the sound of birds singing somewhere nearby and the damp feeling of grass against his face. He moved slightly unsure of himself, arms weakly attempting to push himself up, legs unresponsive at first then slowly kicking at the ground to gain some vantage. He rolled himself onto his back and tried to catch his breath. It was early morning, a few stars still twinkling overhead as the sun started to rise in the twilight sky. He blinked till the stars were mere pinpoints rather than large blurry hazes and then sat up against a nearby tree. He glanced around himself and wondered where he was. It looked familiar...

He felt ill. Nausea washing over him and he pushed himself to his side and began to throw up. After a while he crawled away behind some bushes, wiping absently at his mouth. His stomach hurt making him curl up into a ball in agony. The sun was rising slowly but it was still dark enough he was hidden within the small copse of bushes, his groans barely audible in his weakened condition. He lay on his side, knees pulled to his chest as he fought against the pain and tried to get around it.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, waking up to the sounds of people walking and talking nearby. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was behind some shrubs so they didn't see him. A couple of kids, teens from the look of it, sat in the bench and chatted while listening to their mp3 players and texting on their phones. He managed to pull himself up out of their sight and stumble away before anyone could notice him. He kept out of sight as much as possible finally ducking into a small building marked "_men_." He locked the door and walked over to a stall and threw up again. He flushed the toilet and stumbled back towards the sink and washed his hands glancing briefly into the mirror. He shrank back at the pale, blood-stained face that gazed back at him. The whole left side of his face was splattered with streaks of blood in deep contrast to the pale olive tone of his skin. He slowly ducked his head down to the sink and began to wash his face and hair until no more red washed into the drain. He pulled some paper towels from the roll and dabbed at the side of his head where the blood seemed to come from. It stung and burned but he was able to clean most of the clots and red from the wound before he left.

He walked back into the sunlight and blinked, visoring his eyes with his hand. He wavered slightly, the world seemingly tilting on its axis as he stumbled along. He found a shady park bench and sat down thankfully. Something poked him in the side as he slumped against the bench rail. He reached inside his pocket and found a cell phone, screen and case partially cracked. He stared at it and pushed the buttons but nothing happened. It was broken. He pushed it back into another pocket and curled up feet and all onto the bench, closing his eyes. His mind was blank of anything other than basic things. He knew how to use the cell phone but he couldn't think of his name. He pulled his jacket tighter around him and tried to sleep.

"Mister... Hey Mister. You ok?" He looked up to see a scraggly old man in baggy clothes with a shopping basket looking at him. He nodded at the man and closed his eyes again but someone poked him in the arm.

"Hey, Mister... you don't look so good." He opened his eyes again feeling annoyed despite everything and felt around for the cell phone again. He handed it to the man who smiled broadly.

"Thank you. I hope you feel better!" The man started away, the basket _squeaking_ quietly on the pavement till it faded away. It wasn't like the cell phone worked and the man could sell it for food. Plus now he was gone; he could sleep again. He curled back up again and tried to rest but suddenly his stomach started to hurt again and he gave a little groan. He sat up and looked around for some bushes and ran to them, throwing up again. He had no more to give, only a little clear liquid leaving his lips as he spit and heaved. His mouth felt dry, his tongue thick as he collapsed to his knees in the grass and panted. He needed to go to a hospital or something. He knew that much but something kept him from going.

"Hey Mister..." He turned seeing the old man again standing there looking concerned.

"Leave me... alone." He mumbled, curling up again in the grass and fighting against the pain. Someone poked him, a shadow crouching over him. He turned and saw the old man looking at him, staring but smiling.

"I know someone who will patch you up. No questions." The old man grinned, pulling on his arm. Reluctantly he rose and let the old man lead him to the basket. He leaned against the handle and tried not to fall over, the old man still smiling.

"Patch you up. Nice people. Give you food and shelter. Come..." He just followed the old man, pulled along by the basket and its _wobbly_ wheels. He wasn't aware of what or who he passed till the old man stopped and grabbed his arm with a child-like excitement. He turned and saw himself in front of a shabby little building on the corner of a street. A sign overhead marked it as "_My Brother's Keeper Shelter._" It had glass doors like a convenience mart with a sign on the inside of the glass indicating they had beds available and the nurse was in. The old man pushed him towards the door, smiling. He nodded vaguely at the older man, pushing the door open, only peering back when the man yelled:

"I'll see you later, Mister." He gave a weak wave back and entered the building looking cautiously around. He entered a dimly lit hallway that opened up into a small gymnasium looking room. Beds covered a good portion of the floor arranged with small lockers beside each one. One corner had been cordoned off with cloth dividers making a small clinic area. Three people in scrubs sat at a small desk near the front talking to a short line of people who were in need of medical services. He continued looking around seeing a kitchen area built into the corner nearest him with a soup line like you see at a buffet or school cafeteria. He was vaguely aware of a combination of scents mingling within the building: chicken soup, sweat and a sterile aroma of alcohol and bleach. It made his head swim. He turned to leave the way he came when someone coughed near him.

"May I help you, sir?" He turned shakily and looked at a young woman in blue green scrubs smiling at him. He shook his head, taking a few steps back when he felt a tinge of pain in his stomach and keeled over. She caught him and walked him to a chair.

"You're in pain. Where does it hurt?" He looked up at her, breath panting as he tried to speak.

"Stomach... keep... vomit...ing." He bent over again, his temples throbbing in rhythm with his heart. He felt her touch his forehead and gasp.

"You have a fever. **I need help over here!**" She had turned and called to someone, his face contorting with pain. He gave a low groan and rolled out of the chair to the floor with a thud. She was crouching beside him cradling his head when he saw her eyes widen. Her fingers were red with blood. He didn't care, his vision tunneling to black as she shook him gently.

"Sir... sir stay awake. Sir!"

**(Search)**

Peter had barely made it back to the stake out when Hughes called to ask him what was up with Neal. Peter blinked at the cell.

"_I want you to go find Caffrey, Burke!_" He had to pull the phone away from his ears but then pushed it back when his boss settled down.

"Sir? I'm on a stake out." He pulled the cell away from his ear and nodded at what his boss said.

"_Not any longer! I'm sending out a replacement. Find Caffrey. Understood?!_" Hughes sounded angry, Peter holding the phone away from his ear again.

"Yes Sir. No problem." Peter hung up the cell relieved and put it away.

Fifteen minutes later he heard a knock on the window and saw another agent there. Peter rolled the window down.

"Hey, Jared. What brings you here?" The other agent looked rather confused shaking his head.

"Hughes called. I'm your replacement." Peter blinked.

"That was fast. Sorry for making you come out Jared. Little _emergency_." The other agent nodded waving at Peter as he started his car and pulled out. He made his way back towards the freeway, using his cell phone to call someone on the car console. The cell rang and rang till finally someone picked up and he heard silence and then some light breathing in the background.

"Mozzie, I know you're there. It's Peter Burke." He heard the breathing pick up a bit to a wheeze then a nasally voice.

"Do you know what time it is, Suit?" Peter tried not to scream into the phone since he needed the little guy's help to find Neal. He tried to think calm thoughts before he spoke.

"Mozzie, have you heard from Neal?" He waited hearing more silence. His patience was wearing thin and maybe the man sensed it because suddenly he blurted out:

"No, he's on a stake out with you. He told me himself earlier today when I called him. Why?" Peter realized the little guy wasn't diverting for once. This meant what he thought was true. Neal hadn't run.

"I let him go early but I needed to ask him something and he's not answering his phone. I guess he could be sleeping." His voice trailed off but not before Mozzie interrupted him.

"Yes as I had been when you called. If that's all the interrogating you have for me. Am I free to go now?" Peter blinked and nodded to the cell.

"Sure, but... well Night Mozzie." He heard a muttering in the background and the line went dead. Peter hung up the cell and then dialed another number.

"Peter? How is the stake out going? How is Neal?" She sounded rather cheerful and he was upset he was going to destroy that happiness by telling her it looked like Neal had run. He swallowed hard and then spoke.

"El, Neal uhm... He's sleeping actually. Stake out's going good but it's slow." He hated lying to her but until he knew what was up, he didn't want to worry her. He would just go back to the office for now and look over the tapes Jones found and see what he could find.

"Well tell him I'm looking forward to him helping me at the luncheon tomorrow." Peter nodded into the phone and blushed a bit as she blew him a kiss over the phone but he did the same back and the call ended. He sighed, feeling like he was a class one heel lying to his wife but he didn't know at this point what had happened to Neal. There were no signs of anything having happened to indicate anything other than the young man may have run for whatever reason could have popped into his head.

Peter sighed again, slamming a hand on the dash, his brow furrowing into a frown as his lips curled downward.

Neal had been through quite a bit since Kate's death but recently he had seemed to be doing better, sincerely happy to get back to work and he had stopped the little bit of moping he had been capable of. Overall the young man had acted distant more than mopey which had surprised the agent.

At first there had been the occasional bursts of anger that Peter had been surprised to witness but that had soon been replaced by a cold distant young man who spoke little if any. In the interim, Neal had lost some weight but not so much with June around to fatten him up and keep him busy. She had done so much to keep him involved and make sure he had activities to occupy his mind and spirit along with Mozzie and El. Everyone had rallied around Neal and kept him as much in the loop of living that he couldn't spend too much time mourning beyond the norm.

Peter looked at the back seat where he had dropped the anklet and fedora and wondered how they had gotten in the alleyway. What could have made the young man suddenly cut his bonds and run? Could something have happened? Peter hadn't been in the convenience store more than 20 minutes.

He sighed trying to figure it out as he parked his car in the FBI lot and got out. He locked up the car and made his way to the elevator. It was late so he had to put a key on the panel to get the car started and going up to his offices. The emergency lights were on in the main lobby and a single desk light on the floor showed a figure hunched over a screen along with a couple of other agents. Peter pushed the glass doors open and made his way into the lobby and stood behind them. Jones turned and smiled sleepily.

"Peter..." The young agent looked tired. He pointed at something on the screen and moved aside to let his boss see. Peter peered at the screen and whistled.

"He was carjacked? Any better shots of the assailant, Jones?" The young man shook his head as Peter felt both relief and worry wash over him. Neal hadn't run, he'd been taken by force.

"There weren't any other cameras except in that one corner for the area and the mini mart ones were from the inside so they didn't reach far enough to see the car." Peter nodded grimly, finding a chair and sitting down. Someone had kidnapped Neal and removed his anklet. He combed his hair with his hand and nodded to his subordinate as he stood up again.

"Thank you Jones. Get the best print you can of the perp and pass it around the wire... then everyone go home. I'll see you in the morning." The agent nodded as did the others and Peter made his way up to his office and turned on the desk lamp and PC. He sat there in the soft glow of the lamp and screen and frowned. It didn't make any sense! A random thug wouldn't have had a reason to remove the anklet much less know it was there. This sounded like an inside job. Someone had followed them and then grabbed Neal when he was out of Peter's view. But why? He slammed a hand on the desk, opening up a file on the PC and digging around through the program for information.

"Peter?" Jones stood in the doorway looking at him curiously. Peter waved him inside as he continued to dig around on file he had opened. Jones sat across from him and peered over curiously.

"I sent out the APB and have a few people checking airports, hospitals and such. Need anything else before I go?" Peter shook his head vaguely then looked up.

"Clinton... I'm worried. Whoever this was that took Neal, they knew about the anklet." A deep frown set itself firmly on his lips as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

"It does seem suspicious how you found the items in the alley. Almost like someone was trying to tell you something. Any ideas?" Peter shook his head, his frown deepening.

"Go home, Jones and thanks." The younger agent nodded.

"Well find Caffrey, Peter. Don't worry." Peter nodded slightly trying to smile but not feeling it.

Once the office was quiet again and he was alone, Peter leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was worried. If this was the doing of OPR and the ring man... he felt himself grow livid at the thought. He stood up, turning off the light and PC and made his way out of the office. He pulled his cell out again and tried calling Neal once more.

"_Just leave a message._" Neal's voice message was brief before Peter heard the beep and spoke as plainly as he could.

"Whoever you are... if you harm a hair on his head... Just expect pay back." He didn't say anything else, trying to calm his anger when he heard the beep again and another message:

"_If you would like to page this person or change your message, please press 3 or hang up now._" 


	2. Chapter 2

**Alter Ego 2  
============**

It was like pushing his way up through a pool full of jello. The darkness was thick and suffocating and it took all his efforts to resist falling back into the abyss and just lay there. He had already done enough time in the dark recently that he knew he wanted to be in the light.

His eyes opened slowly, vision blurry at first then slowly focusing. The light was dim, deep shadows around the small space he was in. He noticed the wood paneled walls and ceilings indicating the building was rather old, maybe from the 1940s. He started to think of styles of architecture, time period characteristics and other details about the building. He blinked at the thoughts wondering how he knew so much. He pushed himself up to his elbows but his chest and stomach still felt tender and he slumped back against the cot he was on. Everything ached, including his head although it had been dulled slightly. His left arm felt itchy and he reached to scratch at the spot and noticed a tube coming out of his arm attached to a clear bag of liquid on a post. Someone had put an IV on him. Maybe that was the source of his relief? He shrugged to nobody in particular and kept looking around the space as he lay on the cot.

After a few minutes he realized he could hear the soft sounds of people from nearby. It was then he noticed the cloth barrier between him and the rest of the space. The scents of chicken soup, sweat, alcohol and bleach filled his nostrils and he knew where he was: _the shelter_. This was the place the old man had brought him to. He had been in the park and then the old man had found him and lead him here. A woman's voice reached his ears from nearby.

"I'm probably going to stay the night. No, it's ok. He's either going to get better or I take him to the hospital. I just didn't think he should be moved yet. He was too weak. Yes... I know the rules but... but... fine. I'll call for one in the morning. Bye." He heard the beep of a cell phone and a loud sigh of frustration. He heard the sound of someone walking towards him as a curtain pulled aside. There was a brief hint of bright light that caused him to squint, before the curtain was pulled back again. A shadowy form walked towards him and after a moment he could make out a young woman in blue green scrubs approaching him.

"Oh... you're awake." She looked surprised and relieved, her green eyes glancing directly at him. He pushed himself to his elbows again to sit up but groaned and fell back as the pain hit him. She came closer and started to gently touch his chest and abdomen.

"Tell me where it hurts?" She poked gently at him till he winced and she lifted up his shirt and looked at him in the dim light. She whistled through her teeth with concern.

"It looks like whoever punched or hit you here, they did a pretty good job but I think you'll live. The bandages will hold you together but x-rays wouldn't be a bad idea at this point. Your chest sounded ok when I listened and the head wound was a graze. I couldn't feel any fractured or broken bone but again, an x-ray would help in both cases." Her voice was matter of fact and she smiled slightly when he looked up at her.

"Someone... shot me?" He gazed at her curiously, unsure what to think. Who would want to shoot him? He tried to think but his head hurt too much so he stopped for the moment. He saw her looking at him curiously.

"You don't remember what happened?" He shook his head.

"No, I just... no. I woke up like this in the park. Maybe I was mugged?" He dug around in his pockets but there was nothing there. She patted him on the arm gently.

"I didn't find a wallet so it's possible you were mugged. Tomorrow we can call a cop after your visit to the hospital. By the way, my name is Allison." She held out her hand and he took it slowly, opening his mouth to speak.

"My..." He stopped and felt his eyes widen.

"My name..." He couldn't think straight, his mind blank as a slate. She patted him on the shoulder and smiled softly.

"Don't worry about it. That was a pretty nasty graze. It will all come back to you." He nodded back at her but he felt a kind of fear overcome him thinking about not knowing _WHO_ he was. How could he forget his name? His identity?

"I'll call you Nathan... you look like a Nathan." He peered up at her, started to shake his head then stopped.

"Maybe... it will work for now. But why Nathan?" His voice was raspy and hoarse when he spoke. She smiled and squeezed his hand again, standing up.

"A friend of mine. You look a bit like him. I'll get you something to drink and eat if you want." He nodded smiling back at her.

"Just some water. I don't think I'm very hungry yet." She smiled and disappeared behind the curtain again.

He... Nathan tried again to sit up and managed to push himself up and sit along the edge of the cot. He hunched over a bit feeling the bandages wrapped around his midsection, a slight crinkling sound when he moved. He made a push to stand up when he heard hurried steps and someone push down gently on his shoulders.

"Not yet. You're still too weak to get up. Now drink this." Allison handed him a tall glass of water and two small white pills. He looked at the pills curiously.

"Aspirin for your fever. You're still a bit warm." Nathan nodded and took the two pills then sipped at the water slowly. His throat still burned from earlier when he was sick. He finished the glass and handed it back to her.

"Now lay back down and rest. It's after midnight. You've been asleep for most of the day." Nathan nodded, smiling at her as he lay back against the cot. She brushed some hair from his face and felt his forehead before she moved back towards the curtain and disappeared. He could just hear her footsteps echoing into the distance. He stared up at the ceiling and around the room, a little yawn escaping his lips. Maybe he should rest. He noticed a window off to the right of him with grill work in the frame. In the darkness he could just make out the design, following it with his eyes and thinking of the period and architecture behind it as he fell into a light sleep.

**(Imprisoned)**

Nathan had strange dreams throughout the night. Vague, murky images of things that might be called _memories_ swam around his head like schools of fish, scattering when he tried to pinpoint any one directly.

**Nathan: **"_Out of all the people in my life... Mozzie, even Kate, you know... You're the only one._"  
**Man's voice:** "_I'm the only one what?_"  
**Nathan: **"_You're the only person I trust..._"

The conversation faded away followed by the image of a young woman with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. She smiled at him then disappeared in a flash of light and he flinched back, arms over his face. He felt heat like a fire had been lit around him and a deep pain in his chest that made him want to scream in fury. Nathan thrashed in his sleep, lips moving ever so slightly without speaking. He stayed like that a while till the memory faded and another one took its place.

"_Byron liked the park for many of the same reasons..._" A woman was speaking. She sounded older, but with a hint of youth and spirit. The thought of her, whomever she was, made him smile in his sleep. His face relaxed as the memory moved to yet another path.

**Woman's voice: **"_Would you like a bowl for that cereal?_"  
**Man's voice: **"_That's not what I was thinking._"  
**Nathan: **"_Thank you... Manners!_"

This memory felt a bit warmer than most. The woman's voice was bubbly and warm with a hint of coyness. The man's voice was familiar. He thought he had heard it in a previous memory. Something about the voice made him think of a father or older brother. He tried to think how he knew them, all these voices. He reached into the darkness to pry the information from his blank mind but nothing came back and he felt consciousness coming.

Nathan opened his eyes and lines like bars slanted across the ceiling and floor towards him as his vision focused. In his mind's eyes he heard the _clang_ of a metal door and saw a wall with several marks on it. A hand... his hand marked yet a new line along a row of many hashes. There were bars to his left as if he were in a cage. He had the strange feeling of being enclosed and trapped. His heart started to race.

"No... No..." Nathan muttered and pushed himself up to a sitting position, his side hurting but he ignored it and managed to stand. He yanked the IV out of his arm, stumbling towards the curtained barrier and pushing his way through. Nobody was outside the curtain when he exited although the building was far from empty. Several occupants were either still sleeping or slowly waking up from sleep from any one of the beds lining the center of the room. Nathan made his way towards the exit and pushed the glass doors open.

The sounds of early morning traffic, exhaust fumes and pedestrians walking by at a fast pace assaulted his senses. He stumbled through the sidewalks away from the shelter in a panicked lope. Nathan made no notice as to where he was going, just trying to escape the memory of the cage and bars. He kept seeing his hand marking ticks on the wall in a never ending series of hashes. Nathan found a stoop in an alleyway and sat down there, covering his ears and closing his eyes.

"_Criminals like you should be locked away forever! You waltz around as if the world owes you something, getting something for nothing!_"

Nathan heard the voice cursing at him from nearby, the memory fresh. His head ached as the voice spoke and his stomach and chest felt like it had been lit on fire as pain washed over him. He slumped over on the stoop and felt his eyes grow wet.

"I'm sorry... Please... don't..." He curled up on his side on the stoop and covered his head protectively. His body twitched as if someone were hitting him as he lay there. After a moment his body grew slack and he lay still, breath shallow, eyes fluttering lightly under closed lids.

**(APB)**

Peter had not been able to sleep since Neal's disappearance. He had made it home shortly after 2 am that first night and ended up resting on the couch downstairs so that El could sleep. Tonight he woke up early and did the same thing, his laptop out as he searched through case files trying to figure out who might have had a reason to take Neal. He sighed to himself, a worried look furrowing his brow.

"Neal, where are you?" Peter muttered to himself, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. He glanced at the computer taskbar and saw it was nearly 4 am. He leaned back against the couch and held his cell phone in front of his face. He dialed a number despite the late hour and slumped back sleepily, listening to the ringing of the phone. He was about to hang up before the voice mail came up when the phone picked up.

"_Who's there? Helloooo? Hi!_" Peter blinked at the sound of a strange voice answering Neal's phone. It didn't sound like a kidnapper to him, the voice sounded more child-like but old. Peter sat up surprised.

"Uhm... is Neal there?" He heard movement and a strange squeaky sound of wheels like on a shopping cart then a loud clanging sound of something being thrown against a cage. He jumped pulling the phone from his ear before he heard the voice again.

"_Hellooo? Neal? I don't know a Neal but some nice man gave me this phone. Someone fixed it for me. Hellooo? Mister?_" Peter blinked again nodding at the phone.

"Who is this?" The voice answered him with the sound of more clanging in the background and the squeaky wheels like a percussion track.

"_Gus... I'm collecting cans in the park. Gotta pay for this phone._" Peter nodded again at the phone and was about to say something else when the voice said.

"_Sorry, going now. Nice talking to ya, Mister._" The phone went _click_ and Peter pulled the phone away staring at it curiously.

Somehow Neal's cell had been given away and the person was in Central Park somewhere collecting cans. Of course... a bum! But why... Peter rubbed at his chin, pushed the phone onto the table and walked across the room to the kitchen. He opened a side door to the laundry room and grabbed up a pair of jeans and a tee and changed right then and there. He grabbed some white tube socks and sneakers and started out the swinging door back to the living room when he heard someone on the stairs.

"Honey, who were you talking to so early in the morning?" It was El. He grimaced feeling bad he had waken her up. She rubbed sleepily at her eyes then glanced curiously as he grabbed up his phone and started for the door.

"I think I may have a lead on Neal." He pulled his jacket on, pushed his wallet and keys into his pocket, kissed his wife and took off out the door.

**(Gus)**

It only took a little while before Peter made it to Central Park and found a space for the Taurus. He slipped out of the car and locked it, walking down one of the main paths. He really wasn't sure what he was looking for but he had heard the man say he was collecting "_cans_" and the sound of squeaky wheels meant the man probably had a shopping cart with him. Peter glanced around furtively from side to side, watching as the quiet park began to come to life around him. He made his way around every major path he could, stopping only occasionally at a water fountain for a drink. It was nearly 8 am before he stopped on a nearby bench to rest. He had already called Jones and Hughes and let them know about the lead on Neal.

Peter leaned back against the bench and closed his eyes. He was tired and any adrenalin that had kept him going had just about run dry. He started wishing for some of that Italian roast from June's when a sound interrupted his thoughts. It sounded like squeaky wheels on a shopping basket. His eyes popped open and he sat up with a start looking around for the source of the sound. From around a large copse of bushes a little old man in baggy clothes came shuffling around, a rickety metal shopping basket pushed before him. A large clear bag of cans was pushed underneath and more cans were rolling around noisily in the main basket.

The agent stood up and slowly walked towards the old man, smiling as friendly as he could manage. He saw an aluminum can under a bush and picked it up. The old man was humming to himself and Peter thought it might be the same man as he started to pass him. He paused and held up the can in a friendly manner. The old man smiled.

"Thank you, Mister." He pointed to the basket and Peter tossed it in noticing Neal's cell phone, cracked and scuffed up in the basket's front shelf. The man started to move away but Peter stopped him.

"My name is Peter. Hey, nice phone. My friend has a similar one." The old man smiled toothily.

"Gus. Young guy gave it to me. He wasn't feeling so good." Peter perked up walking along with the basket as the old man started pushing it along once again.

"Young guy you say? Did he have dark hair, blue eyes and about so tall?" Gus nodded with another toothy smile.

"Yeah. He looked sick. Took him to some friends." Peter felt about two tons of weight fall off his shoulders. _Neal was ok_!

"Can you tell me where you _took_ him..." The old man nodded, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"_My Brother's Keeper_... He's there. They have beds and food and free doctors." Peter nodded smiling.

"Thanks, Gus." Peter started to leave when someone grabbed his arm. He turned and Gus pushed the phone into his hands.

"Take it. I keep getting calls for someone else." Peter blinked and nodded, pushing the phone into his pocket, before he waved again and left. He pulled out his own cell phone as it _buzzed_ in his pocket and heard a familiar voice.

"Jones, just the person I wanted to talk to. I found Neal! Can you find me the address for "_My Brother's Keeper_" shelter. Yeah... shelter. Old guy had Neal's phone said he took him there. Thanks." He walked back to the Taurus and slipped inside, cell phone between his shoulder and ear as he waited for Jones' reply.

"_Boss, just across the park, and one block down from where Neal was staying before June's._" Peter nodded into the cell.

"Thanks, Clinton. See you later." He was smiling broadly as he hung up the phone. _Neal was safe!_ Everything suddenly seemed so much sunnier. Peter started up the car and drove off towards the shelter and his friend. Neal must have been hurt pretty badly if he hadn't called for help. A frown came to his face but if the young man had been able to go to a shelter... he _must_ be ok.

**(Neal who?)**

Peter parked across the street from the "_My Brother's Keeper_" Shelter and stared from the car a moment before crossing the street. He pushed open the glass doors and stepped inside. He immediately felt his nostrils assaulted by several scents: Chicken soup, sweat, alcohol and bleach. He wrinkled his nose a bit looking around the place as he walked into a large gymnasium-like room with dark wood paneled walls and floors, several beds, a small soup kitchen / buffet area and something that could be called a field clinic. He saw a few people using the beds to sleep, some getting food from the kitchen area and a small line at the clinic.

"May I help you sir?" Peter turned to see a young woman with light brown hair, green eyes in blue green scrubs smiling at him. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail with a matching scrunchie. The agent smiled back and whispered to her.

"Hi. My name is Peter Burke. I was looking for a _friend_. Someone named _Gus_ told me he might have showed up here." The young woman nodded taking his hand as he held it out.

"Allison Stanton. Gus is a great promoter of this place though he rarely uses it except for the occasional food stop or medical check-up. Nice guy." She paused and saw Peter looking at her expectantly.

"You said he brought a friend of _yours_ here?" She had a hand on her hip as if she thought he could be putting her on. Her look make him wonder if maybe Gus hadn't been as reliable as he thought, but the old man did have Neal's phone. He must have bumped into him at some point.

"I apologize, Mr. Burke was it? We get a few people who come around trying to bilk the homeless and less fortunate. I just... you look worried enough I believe you. Who was your friend?" She smiled in a more friendly manner as he reached into his wallet.

"Here's a picture of him." Peter pulled out a small shot of Neal making a face next to El at the company Christmas party. It was folded down the middle to hide Neal and show El but he laid it out for the RN to see.

"Oh... Nathan! He's your friend?" She looked excited for a second before her expression changed to something a little less certain. Peter looked baffled at her a moment.

"Nathan? His name is Neal Caffrey." She blinked nodding at him but still looking a bit worried.

"When he came in he was a little confused about who he was so I gave him a name. He _was_ here but he ran off early this morning. I don't know where to. I had him in the clinic under observation and was supposed to transport him to the hospital today but he was gone when I went in to check on him. I'm sorry. I had only left for a few minutes to schedule some tests for another patient when this happened. Nobody could tell me where he went when I asked but he was _here_." Peter nodded, a tight feeling forming in the middle of his back.

"You said he was confused?_ Amnesia_?" She nodded at the agent with a sad look.

"Nathan... I mean Neal was in bad shape when he arrived. It looked like he had taken a pretty good beating in the abdomen. He was feverish, sick to the stomach and had a bullet graze on the left side of his head. I was in Iraq so I'd seen enough of them to recognize a gunshot. I had him on an IV drip to keep him from dehydrating but like I said, he ran off early this morning. Nobody knows where." She shrugged helplessly, putting a hand on Peter's arm.

"I hope you find your friend, Mr. Burke. I wish I could help." He nodded back at her as she excused herself and walked back into the main area of the building. Peter watched her a moment before he turned and exited the shelter. He pulled out his cell and made another quick call.

"Jones. Dead end. Neal ran. No not like that. He's... he was here but somehow he left without anyone seeing. I'll fill you in when I get to the office. See you in a few." Peter hung up the cell and headed back across to his vehicle.

As he merged into traffic, Peter drove slowly looking around at all the people walking around to see if maybe Neal was in the crowd. He must have been going way under the speed limit as a couple of cars honked at him. Peter nodded apologetically and sped up. He felt the weight back on his shoulders as he thought: _Where are you Neal?  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**Alter Ego 3  
============**

Peter didn't notice someone was talking to him till a hand touched his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin, standing up unsteadily as he noticed Jones looking at him oddly.

"Uhm.... boss, Hughes said you need to go home." Peter blinked at his subordinate with a bleary eyed glance, rubbing at his eyes. The clock read 1 pm. He had been at work barely three hours. He yawned.

"Go home? I have to look for Neal." His voice slurred slightly from lack of sleep. Jones shook his head, pushing in Peter's chair and leading him back around the desk to the door.

"Hughes said for me to drive you home. Come on." Peter started to protest until he realized he had done nothing but yawn continually since the time Jones had walked into the office.

"Fine, but call me first chance you find anything on Neal? Ok?" Jones nodded with a brief grin, leading his boss down the stairs and out the door to the elevator. Peter continued to yawn as they made it to the lobby and garage area and Jones helped him into the car. It wasn't a long trip home from the office but it seemed so much shorter by the fact Peter fell asleep at some point and had to be waken up.

"Is he ok, Jones?" He heard El's voice speaking in a worried but thankful manner.

"He's fine. He was just up all morning looking for Neal. Hughes said he needed to rest somewhere other than his office." Peter opened his eyes and saw his wife and Jones standing just outside the vehicle. The door opened and El reached over and unhooked the seat belt around him.

"Come on Peter." He nodded with a sleepy shake of his head, his wife and Jones helping him out of the vehicle. Peter stumbled up the stairs to the door and both helped him up the stairs inside to the bedroom. They lay him on the bed and El kissed him briefly before walking back out with Jones.

"Thanks again, Clinton. You're a good friend." El's voice was faint but still audible despite Peter's exhaustion. He pushed his shoes off and rolled onto his side on the bed still clothed, barely listening to the conversation outside the room.

"Not a problem. He's worried about Neal. I'll show myself out." Peter heard footsteps walking away, down the stairs and the front door open and close. Another set of quiet footsteps made their way to the bedroom and then he felt a hand brush the hair from his face from behind.

"Peter, you need to change out of those clothes. Peter?" He was so tired he just barely nodded before falling into a deep sleep.

**(Lost and Found)**

Nathan's continued to lay still on the alleyway stoop, eyes moving slightly as he dreamed.

"_This is the beginning of those something for nothing schemes that got you into this mess in the first place..._"

The memory was faint but the voice was familiar although he still had no face to match it to. The person sounded concerned for him. Worried maybe. Nathan tried to think who it was that he kept hearing in his head. This man was close to him. He felt a kinship with him as if he were his father or brother. He just...

Nathan opened up his eyes slowly, holding a hand up to visor them against the afternoon sunshine. He was vaguely aware that someone stood over him, his vision finally clearing enough for him to see. The man had dirty blond hair, a jean jacket and held a gun pointed at him. The young man was too exhausted to feel much of anything but this scene felt familiar. 

_"Give me the gun." He heard the cocking of a pistol, his eyes opening to mere slits. There was little light and the figures were murky at best. He could just make out movement and one of the shadows held something that glinted metallic in the dim light._

_"I'll end it quickly." He saw the metal object pointed at him, a flash of light and tried to move but something hit the side of his head. More pain and burning and then nothingness._

Nathan squinted at the man feeling a slight recognition.

"You..." His voice was soft and raspy, the sound of the gun cocking as the man pointed it more directly at him. Nathan felt his heart race slightly despite his exhaustion. The man stood there holding the gun on him when another figure came from behind.

"Michael! Please..." The man with the gun didn't turn around, his voice growling softly.

"Shut up, Sam." Nathan watched the two argue back and forth as he felt himself slip back into unconsciousness.

He didn't wake up from the darkness for a while. His body ached when he felt himself finally coming to. His arms were pulled tight behind him, something stuffed in his mouth and tape pulled securely over his lips. Nathan gave a muffled groan as he tried to roll over. He looked as best he could around the small dimly lit basement. The only light was from two narrow rectangular street level windows. He could just make out the shapes of a few utility shelves with boxes, tools, knickknacks... He could just see a small staircase lead up to a wooden door from where lay on the cement floor. He shifted his weight slightly, hearing a rattle somewhere nearby.

The wooden door opened and he heard the creak of someone coming down the stairs. The footsteps neared him as he shifted his weight to get a better look. Someone grasped him by the hair and lifted him up a few inches, making him wince. He felt himself dragged back and something hooked to his bound arms. Suddenly he was being pulled up into a kneeling position, his arms up and behind him. The figure gave him a small kick in the back making Nathan wince again, eyes watering as someone grasped him by the hair again and pulled back hard.

"Seems we didn't complete this job the first time. SAM!" The man yelled and another figure came tromping down the stairs stopping halfway and looking rather frightened. The second man had dark brown hair, hazel eyes and dressed about the same as the other one. They looked like brothers he thought despite the circumstances.

"Michael, you can't do this. Please!" Michael turned and glared at Sam as Nathan watched from the floor. He saw the second man flinch a bit then move a few steps back.

"Shut up and fill a bucket full of water." Sam looked hesitant, staring between Michael and Nathan before he finally just shuffled over to the corner and started to fill a bucket from a faucet in the wall. After a moment, Sam returned with the bucket and placed it next to Michael.

"Now tie his legs and ankles." Michael threw a roll of duct tape to the other man who nodded reluctantly and started to bind Nathan's legs above and below the knees and then at the ankles. The first man smiled.

"Perfect." Michael walked away long enough to drag a small table over and drag Nathan on top of it. He secured the young man to the table face down, head hanging over the edge. He pulled the bucket close under the young man's face and started to push him into it. Nathan tried to kick away but he was bound securely. His face was submerged into the bucket of water and he struggled to pull away without success. He felt water go up his nose as he fought for air, hearing the other man's protests.

"Michael! This isn't right!" Nathan thought he would pass out when the bucket was flung aside with a loud clanging and his head was released. He squirmed against the table trying to push the water from his nose so he could breath. He was choking as the two men argued. Michael turned and watched with an expression of satisfaction.

"He's a criminal! You know he is, Sam! The same kind of confidence man who screwed our father out of his business and our inheritance! People like him may not kill with guns but they destroy people by stealing and conniving. I have to do this!" Sam didn't seem to agree as he pushed past his brother and pulled the tape from Nathan's mouth, smacking him on the back gently.

"_I'm sorry... he's... he's angry._" His voice was a whisper as Nathan tried to cough up the water and get some air back in his lungs. Sam kept talking to him in a gentle voice despite the grumbled mutterings of his brother. Finally Michael had had enough.

"Shut up already and go upstairs!" Michael glared angrily down at Nathan who just coughed and hacked trying to breathe. He felt sorry for the man despite everything and he wondered if everything he said was true. Was he a thief? A con artist? Had he hurt people? He still remembered nothing about his past but a voice in his memory rang out again.

"_This is the beginning of those something for nothing schemes that got you into this mess in the first place..._"

Peter? The name sounded familiar to him as it formed its way into his psyche. Peter. He was speaking to him in his head. He was like a father or older brother to him. Mentor perhaps? Nathan still couldn't think straight, head slumping forward as he continued to pant and gasp for air. Sam hadn't moved away from him.

"I'm not leaving till you promise me this ends." Michael looked about as angry as he could get but he finally bit down on his lip and chewed on it, nodding slightly.

"Fine, if you'll shut up. Untie him. I'm going out." Sam nodded, immediately cutting the young man loose. Nathan felt his legs freed, then his arms. He fell limp against the table, arms hanging loosely at his sides as he heard the sound of Michael going up the stairs. He continued to cough some in small spasms as Sam gently rolled him off the table and lay him flat on his back on the cool floor. He felt something soft pushed under his head as the man crouched beside him.

"I'm sorry about my brother. He... feels strongly about things. Probably why he works for the government." Nathan nodded slightly, closing his eyes as he wheezed and tried to catch his breath. He felt an arm wrapped around his waist as he was lifted up to his feet.

"Come on." Sam carried the young man up the stairs, Nathan's legs barely working as he tried to help. They made it to the top and Sam pushed the door open revealing a homey little kitchen opening up to the left into a den on one side and a narrow hallway on the other. Sam carried him down the hallway past three doors before he pushed one open at the end and pulled Nathan inside.

The bedroom was sparsely furnished with a single twin bed with white sheets and a matching oak dresser and nightstand. A small lamp sat on the nightstand giving off a soft white glow. There was a closet in one corner with a terry robe hanging off of the door but the room had no windows. Sam carried Nathan towards the bed and pulled the blankets aside as he lay the young man upon the bed.

"I'll make sure you get out of here. Michael just needs to cool off." Nathan nodded vaguely, watching the man pull his shoes off before tucking him in.

"Rest and I'll help you call your friends." Nathan nodded not sure he had friends as he mulled over the things Michael had said about him. The voice in his head made him think there was some truth to it. Maybe he did deserve all of this. He slumped back into the pillows and felt his body go limp as he fell into an exhausted sleep.

Nathan started to dream of his hand drawing marks on the wall. He was in a prison cell, a single bare bulb hanging just beside the barred door. He could hear the sounds of other prisoners around him sleeping, the hollow echoing of footsteps as the guard approached from down the long corridor. It was _lights out_. He looked at the marks on the wall and saw he had only three more spots to fill. Three whole months. She had disappeared and he only had three more months. Why didn't she wait for him?

"_Lights out, Caffrey._" He turned and saw Rufus peering at him through the bars in his prison guard uniform. He nodded slowly, reaching out to pull the string on the light. He saw Rufus smile and nod as he continued down the hallway, footsteps echoing into the distance. A frown crossed Nathan's face as he stared in the dim light at the hashes on the wall and finally moved back to the bunk and sat. He hunched over the side and felt his eyes grow warm and wet. Three whole months and she had vanished. _Kate... where are you?_ He put his face in his hands and wiped at his face tiredly.

The memory faded away to him sitting in an empty loft. He leaned back against a column as he sat on the floor gazing at a bottle marked _Bordeaux_. He held it in his hands and just stared at it with empty eyes. She had really left him and he had failed her. Four years they had been apart. _His fault_. He heard footsteps coming towards him from beyond the column but he didn't move. Someone called to him.

"_Looks like Kate moved on._" Peter Burke appeared around the corner as Nathan turned and looked at the Fed. He blinked seeing the man hadn't changed all that much since their last encounter.

"_I missed her by two days..._" His voice sounded despondent as he continued to sit there unafraid of the agent or what he knew was soon to come.

"_What's with the bottle? Message in it?_" Peter walked around till they were face to face. He didn't look up, his eyes on the bottle.

"T_he bottle IS the message._" He felt like crying but he wouldn't give the agent the benefit of seeing that. He saw the agent nod.

"_What's the message?_" He looked up at the agent and started to stand.

"_Good-bye._" He felt a sudden feeling of revelation as the memory continued.

"_Is that the same suit you caught me in?_" Peter looked down at the suit and smiled with a bit of a smirk.

"_It's a classic. They never go out of style._" He watched as the memory continued.

Peter... this was Peter. The man who continued to talk to him in his memories. He watched himself talking to the man casually despite the circumstances. He trusted him.

**Peter: **"_I'm the only one what?_"

**Nathan: **"_The only person I trust._"

Nathan felt himself starting to wake up. He felt warm... no he felt hot! He gave a little cough as he started to ease back into consciousness. He coughed a bit more, the air thick with heat and something else. He opened up his eyes and found the room filled with smoke. Nathan felt his eyes and lungs burning, pulling the covers aside as he flopped down to the floor with a thud. He crawled over to the door and reached up to the knob. It was warm. He managed to turn it and pull the door open, more smoke billowing into the room as it swung open. Nathan pushed his face down to the floor boards, trying to get some deep breaths before he crawled into the smoke-filled hallway. How far had Sam carried him? He tried to remember the layout. There should be a kitchen up ahead and a Den or living room off to the right.

It was hard to see, the smoke and heat seemed thicker as he reached the kitchen area. He stayed near the floor, eyes burning as he made his way blindly, looking for an exit. He saw a window but when he pulled the curtain he found it boarded up from outside and nailed shut. He cursed and made his way to what looked like a door. It didn't budge. Nathan slipped back down to the floor and sat there coughing as he leaned against the door. He closed his eyes, wondering how he was getting out when he heard it. It was soft at first and it came from the den somewhere.

Nathan pulled himself to his knees, finding the sink and a wash cloth. He wet it and then tied it around his face. He made his way towards the sound and felt a hand beneath his on the carpeting. He peered close and saw it was Sam. Nathan nudged the man but he didn't move.

"Sam... wake up!" He nudged the man again but only heard another quiet groan. Nathan peered through the gloom and saw the source of the fire. A sofa was flaming across the front door, blocking it, the flames spreading to the walls and up into the ceiling. He could smell something like kerosene filling the room as the sofa burned. Nathan coughed and nudged Sam again. He got the man in a fireman's carry and pulled him down into the basement, closing the door behind him. The basement was still cool but smoke was coming in under the door in small bursts. He remembered the windows as he lay Sam on the floor and pulled the table with some effort under them. He pushed both open and peered out. He saw a small enclosed courtyard but no people. Nathan cursed but atleast they had a breeze for now.

**(...a quiet sleep)**

Peter was dreaming about when he first caught Neal. The chat they'd had had been like two old friends. They knew each other better than any two people could know one another and not be related. He woke up thinking about that when he heard the _buzz_ of his cell phone. Peter rolled over to grab it but someone slapped his hand gently.

"You're supposed to be sleeping." El had picked up his phone, peering at the caller id.

"It's not Jones. _Sam Masters_?" Peter shook his head watching El answer the call.

"Hello? Who?" She turned and looked at Peter with a surprised look and handed him the phone. Peter sat up and nodded.

"Yes this is Agent Burke. Neal Caffrey? Where? Thank you. Yes." He hung up the cell and looked at El who was waiting.

"He said Neal was with him. Gave me an address to pick him up." El hugged him and he hugged her back smiling.

"Want me to drive you? You still look a bit tired." He nodded.

Peter leaned back in the front seat as El drove the Taurus. He was glad they'd found Neal finally after the dead end at the shelter. When they arrived within a block or so of the address they found part of the street blocked off because of an apartment building on fire. El had to turn off the main street for the traffic detour and go the long way around. When they found the right street it was the address Sam Masters had given him that was _on_ fire.

**(Heat of the moment)**

Nathan noticed more smoke filling the basement and the sound of things creaking and groaning as more of the upstairs began to catch fire. He could see some of the rafters overhead starting to glow with a faint light. Sam was still unconscious, an egg-sized bump on the side of his head. Someone had knocked the man out and left them both to burn. Nathan cursed looking at the small windows in frustration. He couldn't squeeze out of either one even if he could contort his body enough. They were far to narrow. He looked around for anything else that might serve as an exit.

It wasn't obvious at first but he found a small coal chute behind one of the shelves while exploring for other options. It hadn't been sealed up and seemed to be just wide enough that both he and Sam might be able to make it through. Just to be safe, Nathan did a quick shimmy up the chute and found the opening came out just outside of the enclosed courtyard in a small alley. He could see taxis at the end so he knew they were near a major street. He slid back down, his hands and clothes slightly sooty from the trip. He took Sam and carried him piggy back up the chute with just enough room to spare. He pushed the man out onto the asphalt and then pulled himself out, a cloud of old coal dust billowing off of him. He could hear sirens echoing off the alley walls in the distance and figured they must be on the other side fighting the fire.

"Michael..." Nathan turned as he heard Sam start to wake up. The man opened his eyes and coughed sitting up with a groan.

"Hey, take it easy." Nathan helped him lean back against the alley wall. Sam blinked seeing the coal chute opening and smoke starting to pour out of it. His hazel eyes glanced back at Nathan.

"How... someone hit me on the head and then... You used the coal chute? Thought Michael had sealed that thing up ages ago." He coughed again.

"Lucky he didn't. Can you walk?" Sam nodded standing up with a groan.

"Michael didn't do this. Maybe his friends." Nathan pushed himself to his feet despite his own pain. He'd worn himself out carrying the man to escape the fire. His abdomen was hurting again, head throbbing a bit but they had to get away from the building.

"Friends?" Sam nodded as they limped down the alley.

"He works for the FBI. I think he said they call his department _OPR_?" Nathan stopped walking as Sam continued then paused noticing the young man had stopped.

"You ok?" Nathan stood there trying to remember where he had heard that name before. _OPR... OPR..._

"_Tell Agent Fowler I have what he's looking for._"

He was starting to remember. Fowler had promised him asylum. Him and Kate. He worked for OPR. He had bugged Peter's home and framed Nathan of something.

An image of something exploding in his memory took his breath from him as he fell to his knees and started to hyperventilate. _Kate_. The plane... He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, are you ok?" He turned around to look and saw Peter Burke standing there in his memory. He suddenly found himself standing on the tarmac at the airport. Peter was talking to him over the explosion. Calling his name as he held him back.

"_Kate!_" He heard himself scream in his mind and tried to run back towards the smoke and flames. Peter was holding him back, calling him.

"_Neal, don't. Neal..._" He was looking at the flames in his memory and then seeing real ones as they started to slowly erode the outside of the building before him. He felt someone pulling on his shoulder again.

"We have to go! The wall's going to collapse!" Neal looked back again and saw a stranger. Peter wasn't there anymore and the flames weren't in his mind. He let the man pull him from the alley way back towards the street. He heard a _cracking_ sound of brick and mortar loosening behind them, the memory of heat and fire still fresh in his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alter Ego 4  
==========**

Neal looked back briefly to see smoke and debris billowing after him. In his mind's eye he saw the plane exploding. Someone was dragging him away, pulling him along the alleyway towards the sounds of traffic. He was in shock, memories flooding back to him slowly filling the void that had been there only moments ago. He didn't notice much of his surroundings as he let himself be pulled along.

Neal barely noticed the honk of a car horn as he felt someone grasp his arm and shake him gently as he was pulled out of the way.

"Hey, come on!" It was Sam. Neal nodded absently as the man pulled him out of the street and across to the other end.

**(Wait a second!)**

El sighed frustratedly as they parked along the street to get out of the traffic detoured by the fire. Peter looked upset as he stepped out of the vehicle and glanced up the street. Black smoke could be seen rising up above the buildings. El stayed in the car calling to her husband.

"Peter get back inside! I'm sure he wasn't..." Peter nodded without really paying attention, his eyes watching the smoke in the distance and the people milling around. The agent gave a sigh starting to slip back into the car when he perked up.

"Michael?" He saw a man running past him, then stop a few yards away. Peter closed the car door and started after the figure till he was able to reach out and touch them on the shoulder. The man turned around looking surprised.

"Burke? What are..." Michael suddenly had a very odd look on his face, starting to edge away before Peter grasped his arm tightly.

"Michael, what are you doing here?" Peter looked behind the man at the fire and then back again. Michael looked pale suddenly.

"I... I had no idea it was your case they gave me. I'm sorry." Peter blinked at the man unsure of what he was talking about then narrowing his eyes at the other agent.

"_You_ took Neal? Why?" He grabbed the man by both arms looking like he might wring his neck right then and there. He heard El's voice behind him out of breath.

"Peter, what's going on?" She was staring at the other man curiously, face worried at her husband's sudden change to anger. Peter didn't turn around, his face staring at Michael's with controlled rage. The other agent pulled away but stayed within a few feet, his face turning to see the fire down the street.

"Burke, my brother was in that building with your con." Peter looked livid but he nodded and pointed back at the car.

"_Get in._" His tone didn't leave much room for Michael to shake his head at so they moved back to the vehicle, El getting in the passenger seat this time, Michael in the back. Peter pulled the car back out into traffic. If he wasn't awake before, he was now. Peter rubbed at his eyes off and on as he gripped the steering wheel like a driver at a demolition derby. He looked tense.

"Burke..." Peter turned briefly, his glare shutting the man up. El looked at her husband then back at the man confused but said nothing. The traffic was getting worse as it was detoured from the fire ahead. Peter took a side street around to get closer to the actual incident.

"Burke... I didn't do this. Someone else got involved." Peter looked into the rear-view mirror at the man, brown eyes narrowing.

"Who else was involved?" Michael gulped as he was pinned by that look.

"Michael! Who _ELSE_ was involved?!" Peter turned around, looking like he was ready to jump into the back seat when El grabbed his arm and screamed.

"**Peter, watch out!!!**" He turned, hitting the brake hard as two people ran out of an alleyway in front of his car. He felt his pulse racing as the car jerked to a stop barely a foot or so from the pedestrians. Peter glanced up as Michael spoke from the back.

"Sam?" Michael was pointing to the pedestrians they nearly hit who were rushing across to the right and onto the sidewalk. Peter gawked.

"Neal? **Neal!**" Peter pulled the car over, took off his seat-belt and jumped out the car. Michael was a few steps behind him as they ran across the street and followed the two fleeing figures.

"**Neal!**" Peter was shouting but with the sirens nearby, traffic mess and people the young man didn't hear him. Michael was shouting too. They made their way up the street till Michael grasped Peter's arm and pointed.

"Crap... They found your con." Peter looked as a black sedan cruised up the street towards Neal and Sam.

"Friends of yours?" Michael nodded reluctantly.

"Look, they threatened to kill my brother when I found out who Caffrey really was. That's why I was headed this way. Truce?" Peter nodded after a moment and they shook.

"Let's hurry."

**(Means to an end)**

Neal barely noticed the car that almost hit him as Sam dragged him across the street. They ducked onto the sidewalk and blended into the crowd. Neal noticed a black sedan creeping along the street towards them. He pulled Sam into a nearby alleyway but the car sped up to pursue. Neal pulled Sam along this time as the vehicle started to close in.

"**NEAL!**" He paused a moment thinking he was hearing things. Peter? He didn't have time to turn as the black sedan came in for the kill. Neal saw his only opportunity for escape as a small side alley came up. He pushed Sam into the space meaning to follow but his little pause had cost him. The car clipped him and he flipped up onto the hood of the vehicle and rolled off to the left into a pile of trashcans. Neal thought he heard some shots ring out as the car sped up down the alley then braked some yards ahead.

"Neal!" He heard approaching footsteps and turned his head to see Sam across the alleyway looking petrified. Neal saw Michael, the man who had shot him, run up to Sam and grab the man by the arm. Michael was holding a gun. Neal wanted to get up and help Sam but his body refused to move. He was surprised to see the two men hugging. It looked like Michael was relieve to see his brother. Something had changed.

"Sam, I'm sorry." Neal could just make out the words Michael said as he noticed a figure crouched down beside him. He felt someone touch his shoulder gently. He looked up and saw a familiar face.

"Peter? I'm not dreaming am I?" He saw Peter shake his head and smile as broadly as he'd ever seen him smile.

"Good..." Neal felt himself smiling back up before his face went slack and his eyes started to roll back into his head. Peter shook him gently, his expression worried.

"Neal? Neal wake up!" Peter tried to wake the young man up when he noticed a little red dot hovering over Neal's forehead. He turned to see the black sedan still braked a few yards ahead and someone pointing a high powered rifle at them. Peter didn't have time to move or anything to hide behind. They were sitting ducks.

"Peter get down!" Michael stepped out of the side alley, his pistol raised and ready. He pointed it at the man with the rifle who just stared at him blankly from behind a pair of shiny sunglasses. Peter pulled himself and Neal behind one of the trashcans as he held himself protectively over his unconscious partner.

"I'm not going to do this anymore!" Michael's voice carried across the alleyway. Sam started to peek out despite his frightened look but Michael hissed at him to stay back.

"Put the rifle down!" Michael kept calling at the man but the red dot now hovered over the back of Peter's head.

"Peter!" Michael turned briefly at the sound of Elizabeth Burke calling from behind them. She was at the mouth of the alley with what looked like Jones and a few other agents. Peter peered up from where he lay on the ground protecting Neal, his face tense.

It all happened so fast.

Jones and the other agents came running up the alleyway towards them, guns ready. Michael turned back, gun cocked as he saw the man with the rifle start to shoot.

Peter ducked flat against the ground with Neal protected beneath him waiting for the kill shot to come. He heard it and flinched but didn't feel any pain. He turned and saw Michael was standing over him, gun still raised, but he seemed to be shaking ever so slightly. He heard another report as Michael's gun went off. Peter turned and saw the rifleman still staring blankly at them but then slump over to the ground. As if someone had cut a rope, Michael suddenly collapsed to the alley floor. The sound of car tires squealing off into the distance was heard as the black sedan took off without the dead shooter.

"Michael?" Sam had run out finally and knelt beside his brother nudging him.

"Wake up... Michael!" Peter sat up, Neal's head leaning against his shoulder limply. He tried to look and see how Michael was but the agent wasn't moving, eyes opened only part way and staring. Peter looked up as Jones approached and made a motion towards Neal. Peter just sighed in frustration.

"Neal's unconscious. He was hit by the sedan." Jones nodded looking over at Michael and Sam.

"An ambulance should be on its way. What happened here? I didn't realize OPR was involved." Peter started to tell him about Sam calling him to pick up Neal and the fire and how he saw Michael on the street. Neal and Sam showed up followed by the mysterious black sedan.

"If Hughes wasn't livid about the Fowler thing... He will be about this. How is he?" Peter looked saddened as he glanced over at Michael. Sam had finally looked up from his brother, his hands covered in blood. He looked like he was going to be sick.

"I don't... he's not moving!" Jones moved over and felt for a pulse and breath. Michael moved slightly for the first time, breath sounding somewhat _wet_. He coughed and blood came out on the pavement. His eyes stared directly at Peter Burke.

"Peter... I'm sorry. Tell Neal..." Michael coughed again and more blood came up. Sam turned pale and moved away from the scene to throw up in a nearby trashcan. Jones put a jacket over the hurt agent, trying to make him more comfortable. He looked at Peter with a shake of his head.

"It's ok, Michael. I think you're about even." Michael stared up at Peter and smiled faintly.

"Been a while... seeing you... Academy days." Michael coughed again, more blood coming up and Peter looked worried at his friend but tried to smile regardless.

"Yeah. We'll have to catch up. Hey, I think I hear the ambulance, Michael. Hold on." Michael nodded faintly, his eyes starting to close, body shuddering ever so slightly. Sam had returned and was holding his brother's hand.

The ambulance made its way up the alley and stopped only a few feet away before the EMTs swarmed out and started to check Neal and Michael.

"We're losing him. Defrib!" Peter watched helplessly as they worked not only on Neal but on Michael. Neal was doing ok but Michael seemed to be losing the fight. Peter made his way over and grasped the other agent's hand and leaned over to whisper.

"_I forgive you, Michael. Stay with us._" He thought he felt a squeeze back but they pulled him away to work on the agent. Neal was already in the ambulance, an IV in his left arm, head wrapped in gauze and right arm in a sling. His chest moved up and down as he breathed a wheezy raspy breath. Neal was going to make it. Peter patted the young man on the head gently, speaking to him softly before they made him leave the vehicle.

"Ok, he's stable. Let's get him in the back!" Peter moved away as they pushed Michael along side Neal and the doors closed. Peter just stared, El hugging him as the ambulance moved away back down the alley. He leaned his head against her shoulder and looked like he might just cry. Jones and the other agents had put their arms away and were investigating the dead shooter. Another ambulance showed up to take care of the body. Sam continued to kneel in the alleyway, face pale. Peter turned when the man started to speak.

"Michael... is he going to be ok?" Sam looked devastated. Peter held out a hand and pulled the man to his feet.

"We'll give you a ride to the hospital. Ok?" Sam was in shock but he nodded slightly and let them lead him out of the alley after Peter let Jones know they were going. One of the agents accompanied them as they exited onto the street.

**(Alls well that ends well...)**

Neal woke up feeling like a train had run him over. He had slept for about 4 days before he finally woke up groggy and somewhat at peace with himself. He had been dreaming about when he had been kidnapped by Wilkes. It had been scary but he had made it through and in the end he had managed to repay a debt. Maybe his karma wasn't as good as it should be but he had done good. Even Peter had said so which meant it had to be true.

"How are you feeling?" A sleepy voice spoke from the right as Neal slowly turned his head and glanced over at the source. It was Peter. The agent leaned back against the sofa. His face looked tired, eyes pinkish. Neal tried to nod but winced. He hadn't hurt his neck in a major way but they had put him in a small brace to keep it still.

"I've felt better. How's... Sam?" Peter stood up from the sofa and stretched, walking over and taking a seat at the chair beside the bed.

"He's worrying about Michael. Man took a bullet for us." Neal blinked glancing at his friend curiously.

"We're talking about the same man who tried to kill me?" Peter nodded but he saw that Neal's expression had darkened a bit though his eyes betrayed a hint of curiosity.

"Why would he take a bullet for me? He blamed me for all the _ills_ of the world." His voice sounded sullen, a flush coming to his face as he stared up at the ceiling. What had he done to deserve the trust of someone who found him unworthy to live just hours before? Neal sighed.

"Michael realized what he did was wrong. They tricked him into it. He didn't know you were with me." Neal shook his head, his face furrowed in a deep frown.

"So if he had known you were my partner, things would have been different? Why would that make him hesitate?" The young man sounded angry if not annoyed. Peter patted him gently on the arm.

"We were at the academy together. He's always been an idealist like me. Two people from the same mold only he had more of a reason to be there. We were both looking to fight the good fight but he had a major stake. His father had been duped by the kinds of white collar criminals we were going to be putting away. Michael was scarred. His father took his own life because of what happened." Neal looked at his friend in disbelief, his face paling.

"He said I didn't deserve to live. Now I understand why. I..." Neal felt his eyes grow moist at the thought of everything Michael and Sam must have gone through after their father's death. The hatred Michael had to have allowed to simmer and grow throughout his life till someone had given him Neal as an outlet for his anger. It was the blind fury of a young man who had lost his father and never forgave those who had lead him to his death that had caused Michael to go after Neal. Someone had chosen to exploit the man's weakness and use it to get rid of him.

"Neal... I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you but you needed to know why." Peter sighed and leaned back tiredly in the chair as Neal mulled what he had learned. After what seemed a long uncomfortable silence, Neal grasped at his friend's hand.

"How is he? Michael?" Neal's blue eyes showed concern, the anger he had felt a slight glimmer now. Peter shook his head.

"I don't know. He's still in _ICU_ last I checked. Sam has been by his side the whole week." Neal sighed.

"You hadn't seen him in a while?" Peter shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. The agent looked exhausted.

"No. Mostly why I was surprised he was around when I went looking for you." He would have said more but the door to the room opened and El peeked in. She carried what appeared to be bags with take-out and some cups of coffee. She clucked her tongue at Peter then looked up and smiled happily surprised at Neal.

"You're awake!" She hurried over, placing the bags and coffee on the table by the sofa before she gave the young man a quick but gentle hug. Neal smiled back.

"Yeah. Peter's been catching me up on things." He made a little move to stretch a bit and winced. His body was still pretty sore from everything that had happened. Atleast he was conscious of who he was again and was back among friends. El smiled sweetly at him.

"Well, he's going to have to finish talking to you after he eats and sleeps a bit. Come over here Peter." Neal saw Peter roll his eyes slightly but nod obediently as he rose out of the chair.

"My wife speaks, and I obey. Oh, coffee!" Peter looked a little lively as he saw the cup and reached for it. He slumped down onto the sofa and sipped at the brew with half opened eyes. El was sitting beside him, brushing at his hair. She stood up after a moment and made her way to Neal's bedside.

"Sam told me to tell you, Thanks. Said you rescued him from a burning building?" Neal flushed a bit, blue eyes staring at the ceiling. He felt a hand take hold of his chin and gently move his head down till his eyes met hers.

"Don't be shy about it. He was very appreciative. Says he told Michael and that's what changed his whole attitude about you." Neal blinked and nodded, her hand letting go as she kissed him lightly on the forehead. He blushed this time.

"Now did you need anything before I make _Mr Grumpy_ here sleep?" Neal looked at her then at Peter who seemed be drinking coffee in his sleep.

"No, I think I'm good. Just tell _Mr Grumpy_ he's about to drop that cup into his lap." El turned around to see her husband slumping to the side, coffee cup slipping out of his hand. She grabbed it just in time and laid it on the table. El pushed a cushion under Peter's head and lay him down across the sofa. He looked rather peaceful.

"He hasn't slept much if any since you went missing." Neal glanced over at his friend and smiled slightly.

"Well, even when I didn't know who I was, he was in my head like my own personal _Jimminy Cricket_." El turned and smiled back.

"Really? You should tell him that sometime." Neal shook his head.

"No way. I'll never hear the end of him asking if _I've followed my conscience today_." El was about to answer back when a familiar voice piped out:

"Just don't _give a little whistle_ unless you mean it." They both blinked looking down at Peter who promptly started to snore softly.

**(The End)**


	5. Epilogue

**Alter Ego - Epilogue  
==================**

**A little something extra!**

Neal took the few steps up to the door two at a time despite the little bit of pain he still felt at exerting himself. He had to maintain his sprightly, carefree appearance even if it did hurt a bit to move after two months of recuperating. He had a nice bottle of wine under his arm with a small shiny bow delicately tied around it. He reached to knock on the door but paused when he heard voices inside. Lots of voices. Maybe he was picking a bad time to show up? He hadn't thought to call ahead a time, which was his usual M.O. Neal paused trying to think of what to do when the door suddenly opened up.

"Let me just walk the dog and I'll be right back." Peter had his back to the door, Satchmo at his feet. The agent turned around and blinked as he nearly bumped into Neal.

"Neal? What..." He saw the bottle under the young man's arm and saw the expression on his face. Neal blushed a bit seemingly trying to hide the bottle under his jacket.

"Hey, Peter. Uhm... What's up?" Peter closed the door behind him as Neal moved away from the door and he stepped outside with the dog. Satchmo sniffed around Neal's shoes and licked at his hand. The con smiled, petting the Lab on the head.

"Hey Satch." Peter was still looking at Neal curiously as they started down the stairs without speaking, Satchmo still paying attention to Neal as he continued to scratch the dog behind the ears. They turned right at the bottom of the stairs and started walking down the sidewalk. Satchmo started to sniff around at things so Neal wiped his hands on his pants and just kept pace with Peter as they walked the dog in silence. When they had made it about half way down the street, Peter turned and touched the young man on the shoulder with his free hand.

"Just coming over to visit?" Neal blinked and turned surprised by the break in silence but nodded. He looked as if he wasn't sure what to say but finally opened his mouth and just spit it out.

"Yeah, I was just uhm stopping by. Thought we could have a drink or something." He nudged the bottle into view and then pushed it back under his arm again. Peter smiled a bit, turning to watch Satchmo stop to do his thing.

"El will find the bow charming." Neal was also watching the dog as well as the general traffic and other activities of the street.

"I thought she might. June let me borrow some of it from her Christmas box." Peter nodded, starting to turn as Satchmo trotted up towards him ready to go home. Neal didn't move. Peter glanced at him curiously.

"Coming?" Neal didn't turn right away as if he were thinking about something. Peter reached out and touched the young man's arm with a smile.

"El made pot roast." Neal turned and a hint of something that hadn't been there for a while sparkled in his eyes. A slight smile formed on his face and he started to follow Peter back the way they came. When they reached the house again, Satchmo took the lead up the stairs with the two men behind the big lab. They heard the door open up and El gawked a moment as she saw Neal standing there with her husband.

"Neal? When did you show up?" She glanced over at Peter who pushed the young man inside ahead of him.

"He was in the neighborhood. He has wine." El smiled broadly, taking Neal's arm and giving him a little hug as they walked inside and entered the living room. Another person was also there. Neal turned and stiffened slightly as he saw who it was sitting on the sofa. The other person stood, their face somewhat surprised. Peter stood between the two, patting Neal on the shoulder as he spoke.

"Neal, this is my friend from my FBI academy days, Michael Masters. Michael, this is my partner Neal Caffrey." Neal felt Peter nudging him ever so slightly forward and he finally held out a hand.

"Hi." He said with as friendly a voice as he could fake. He saw Michael seemed to be feeling somewhat similar as he responded in kind. Their handshake was curt and short lived, El taking hold of Neal's arm and smiling apologetically.

"Let's put that wine on ice?" Neal nodded absently, his eyes still looking at the other agent with a cautious expression. Once Neal and El had disappeared into the kitchen, Michael looked at Peter with a pointed stare.

"Was he invited as well, Peter? One big _happy_ invitation?" Peter blinked and shook his head, a slight frown on his face.

"No, he has an open invitation or I should say, he likes to show up when he shows up. Kind of like kids in college when they need their laundry washed." Michael blinked then smiled slightly.

"I understand. He seems like a nice enough person. Sam likes him but that's my brother. He takes everything in stride." Michael looked a bit uncomfortable suddenly, his eyes looking at the door behind Peter.

"Maybe this was a mistake. We haven't seen each other in ages. People change..." Michael looked like he wanted to leave but Peter stood in front of him.

"Michael..." He couldn't think what to say, making a motion for the man to sit down as he took a seat on the sofa. Michael finally sat, hands in his lap clasped tightly.

"This isn't an easy situation to walk into so I'll just come right out with it... Neal is my partner. Yes he's an ex-con and he was a thief but he's more than paid his debt. You read his file, not just the one OPR created." Michael didn't look up but nodded stiffly, his body language tense.

"And he's my friend. You may not understand that, very few people seem to but I wouldn't trust anyone else to be my partner." Michael looked up at Peter finally, his eyes curious.

"You trust him? Just like that?" Peter nodded without hesitation and he saw a slight frown on Michael's lips.

"I guess I just... You know what happened with my Father. Someone like your partner connived him out of his business. I was barely 10 years old when that happened. Sam was 15. It was a hard time for both of us losing everything we had grown up with." His voice shook as he spoke but he continued.

"I guess I always saw things in black and white after that. It was hard to see the gray area when I was so close to everything. I'm not proud of what I did and I apologize for it. I'm still waiting for them to revoke my badge. Probably the best thing so I can get away from the hypocrisy. I'm sorry Peter. I really am." Michael's eyes looked shiny suddenly and Peter just patted the man's shoulder.

"Michael, they tricked you. I saw the file they showed you. It had nothing in there about Neal's current assignment with me or his actual work profile. Someone's out to get Neal and they used your past to do it." Michael nodded slightly.

"I guess after he saved my brother I wasn't sure what to think. They told me he was manipulating the system for his own benefit and I believed them. I've never had to think in the gray before. I never wanted to. Now... I have to take things into a whole new perspective." Peter smiled, patting his friend again.

"It's ok. I can't say I'm happy with what happened, but we can let bygones be bygones now that we know where everyone stands." Michael nodded slowly, looking up as someone coughed from the far side of the room. It was Neal. He was just standing there beyond the bookshelf apparently out of sight till just now when he decided to make a statement. Peter stood up and glanced over surprised. Michael remained sitting down, staring at the young man with a slightly ashamed look.

Neal walked over to the two men, his expression guarded.

"I overheard your conversation." He smiled slightly at Peter and then turned towards Michael, his expression back to guarded. He licked his lips slightly.

"Michael, I'm sorry about your father. You had every right to be angry." Peter started to interject but Neal stopped him with a slight glare as he continued.

"I never really understood the harm I was doing to others with my "_profession_." It was always just a game to me, but working with Peter has opened my eyes to another side of things I couldn't have seen had I stayed where I was. He's been like a mentor to me. Even when I didn't always do things the right way, he's been patient." He saw Michael blink at him, eyes still looking somewhat shiny, as he stood up and stood face to face with Neal. Suddenly Michael was hugging Neal. It was brief but he spoke to the young man, gently grasping his arms in his.

"Thank you for saving Sam. He's all the family I have. I'm... sorry for what I did." Neal looked kind of shocked as if unsure of what to do. Peter intervened, patting both men on the shoulder. Neal still looked a bit surprised by everything, whatever animosity between the two men evaporating. El took that moment to come out with a big plate of what looked like corn. She turned and saw the three men standing around with odd looks on their faces and stared curiously.

"Dinner's almost ready. Peter, can you help me?" Peter nodded excusing himself and walking over to his wife. She whispered to him out of ear shot as they entered the kitchen:

"_Is everything ok?_" Peter turned and saw Neal sitting down with Michael, the two men seemingly chatting and nodded.

"_I think so_." He looked back one more time as he disappeared into the kitchen and saw that both men were smiling slightly.

**(Chit Chat)**

"So..." Neal sat down with Michael Masters, the ice more or less broken between them.

"Sam was asking how you were doing. He never got to thank you for what you did." Neal blushed slightly.

"Just returning the favor. He stood up for me when..." He paused and Michael shook his head.

"Yeah... Sam was still mad at me for a bit. He took our father's death to heart but he never blamed anyone like I did. He just dealt with it. He's always been the most tolerant person I know. I should have trusted his instincts instead of my anger." Neal wasn't sure how he felt but he knew he wasn't mad anymore. He couldn't completely forgive Michael but he could let it go to some extent.

"Sam definitely has a good heart. Tell him I said Hi." Michael nodded, smiling.

"I will. He's out on the road at the moment." Neal blinked.

"Road? Traveling?" Michael shook his head.

"Truck driver. He's always had a kind of _wanderlust_ about him even when we were little. He liked to travel. Dad used to have to send someone out to find him sometimes cause he would just wander off for hours without telling anyone where he went. I always worried about him, still do but he seems to like what he does." The man shrugged.

"I can understand the feeling. Wanderlust that is. I've seen some places..." Neal had a kind of _dreamy_ look in his eye.

"Really? I was looking at your case file and saw you'd had some adventures in Europe." Neal blinked unsure of what to say then nodded with an impish grin.

"I guess you could call them "_adventures_." I take the fifth on anything unproven." Michael laughed standing up as he saw Peter and El come back into the room with some more dishes of food. Peter looked a bit surprised at the banter between the two. El took the plate from him as he paused to stare at Neal and Michael curiously.

"Dinner's nearly ready if you want to sit down?" Neal stood and followed Michael to the dining area. Peter continued to stare at the two men curiously, one brow arched in query. Neal just shrugged as Michael hit him on the back in a friendly manner.

"I can see why you like him, Burke." Michael smiled, taking a seat at the end while Neal sat down in the middle on the right. Peter finally grinned.

"Well, he does have a certain _mystique_ about him." Neal coughed.

"_Mystique_? Is that what you're calling it now? I thought you referred to it as _that annoying Caffrey charm_." Michael could barely contain a guffaw as Peter smirked.

"Well yes, it has been _referenced_ as such but for company's sake, we'll use the word _mystique_." Neal nodded, his lips tight as he tried not to laugh.

"Sounds good to me. Perhaps you can write it up in a memo for the rest of the office to see? Make it official?" Peter gave a mock scowl as Neal's eyes glittered with unspoken laughter. 


End file.
